Page 40 of The Sterling Acquisition
Productive. Right.“He’s... knowledgeable about behavioral patterns.”
“Yes, he is. I’m hoping we can continue building on that progress.” Leo hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something.”
Orion kept his expression neutral despite the alarm bells going off in his head. “Help with what?”
“Well, the apartment’s a bit of a mess, and I’ve been so focused on work lately that I haven’t had time to clean.” Leo’s tone was casual,but Orion could see the test in his eyes. “I thought maybe we could tackle it together. Like... partners.”
Partners. The word made Orion’s skin crawl. But Dante had been clear—give Leo something he could report as progress.
This was also an opportunity, Orion realized. Access to more of the apartment meant access to potential resources, information, and maybe even communication devices. Leo’s carelessness might reveal something useful for escape planning.
“Alright,” Orion said, surprising them both.
Leo’s face lit up. “Really? That’s... that’s fantastic. Thank you.”
An hour later, Orion stood in front of Leo’s kitchen sink, mechanically washing dishes while Leo dried them beside him. The domestic normalcy of it was surreal—like playing house with his captor, pretending this was a relationship instead of ownership.
The kitchen revealed Leo’s chaotic personal habits—expired food pushed to the back of the refrigerator, half-finished coffee mugs scattered on countertops, discarded corporate memos containing fragments of potentially useful information. Orion had been methodically scanning each document as he cleaned, memorizing lab schedules, security rotations, and names of key personnel. Dr. Morrison’s name appeared frequently, always in connection with the specialized intervention department that Dante warned about.
“You’re very efficient at this,” Leo commented, accepting a clean plate from Orion’s hands. “Very thorough.”
“My father believed in pulling your own weight,” Orion replied automatically, then regretted the personal revelation.
“He sounds like a wise man. What did he do for work?”
The question hit unexpectedly, and Orion had to force himself not to stiffen. “Research. His department was liquidated.”
“Ah.” Leo’s tone carried understanding.
They worked in relative silence after that. There was something almost pathetic about Leo’s obvious pleasure in this mundane task—like he’d been so starved for normal human interaction he was willing to settle for the illusion of it.
“There,” Leo said as they finished the last of the dishes. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No,” Orion admitted, because it hadn’t been. Awful in its implications, yes, but not actively terrible. “It was... fine.”
“I’m so glad you think so. I’ve always believed that cooperation makes everything easier for everyone involved.”
Cooperation. Another euphemism for submission, but delivered with such earnest conviction that Orion almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Later, they ended up on the couch together—Leo’s suggestion, presented as casually as everything else tonight. The movie was some pre-Adjustment action comedy that Leo found amusing, though Orion spent most of it analyzing escape routes and wondering how much longer he’d have to maintain this charade.
The living room offered new insights—a carelessly discarded SVI security badge on the side table, a glimpse of Leo’s work schedule pinned to a bulletin board, and most valuably, an unattended tablet charging on the kitchen counter. If he could access that device, even briefly, it might provide crucial information about Project Tether’s timeline or security protocols.
Halfway through, Leo shifted closer on the couch, and Orion had to consciously relax his muscles to avoid flinching away.
“This is nice,” Leo murmured, settling his arm around Orion’s shoulders with casual possessiveness. “Peaceful.”
The weight of Leo’s arm felt like a chain, the casual touch a reminder of exactly what Leo thought he owned. Orion focused onbreathing steadily, on not letting his revulsion show, on the knowledge that enduring this was buying him time.
In his peripheral vision, he could see the tablet on the counter. Just fifteen feet away. Perhaps accessible if Leo fell asleep after his wine consumption. The thought kept him grounded through the unwelcome physical contact.
“Mhmm,” he managed, the sound neutral enough to be agreement.
Leo’s fingers traced absent patterns on his shoulder, and Orion had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from pulling away. The touch was gentle, but it carried all the presumption of intimacy that made his skin crawl.
This is what Leo wanted—a compliant pet who accepted casual affection without complaint. Someone who sat quietly while being touched, who didn’t fight or resist or remind him that this was all built on coercion.
The movie played on, but Orion barely saw it. He was too busy cataloguing every point of contact, every assumption in Leo’s relaxed posture, every moment he had to suppress the urge to violence. Simultaneously, he was mapping the apartment’s layout, noting the location of keys, devices, and potential weapons. If Dante’s extraction plan failed, he would need alternatives.
